


Red Pasta

by SansyFresh



Series: Fluff and Stuff [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Edgepuff, Fluff, M/M, Sillyness, cooking contests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Fell is certain Papyrus knows how to make spaghetti. Its just getting the cad the admit it that's the problem.





	Red Pasta

**Author's Note:**

> for yastaghr! i hope you enjoy XD
> 
> (if its not obvious, Papyrus is messing with them lol)

It had started with the simple belief that Papyrus couldn’t cook spaghetti. Sure, if they put the boy in front of any other recipe and he’d whip up a dish that was tastier than anything they could even think of, but spaghetti? Any time he’d made it before it was almost so bad they would have thought it was an inside joke with him and someone else, that maybe Undyne had challenged him to only ever serve bad spaghetti. They wouldn’t have put it past her. But upon actually asking fishfillet if she’d made some sort of nefarious deal with Papyrus because of ulterior motives, she’d had no idea what they were talking about.

“His spaghetti’s good? Though?” She’d said with a look on her face like they were the crazy ones. Of course, that was from  _ Undyne  _ of all people, so after that the lot of them just… kind of assumed Paps didn’t know how to make spaghetti and was too proud to look up an actual recipe.

But then there was the whole problem that pride wasn’t really his thing, and neither was not looking up recipes. Hell, they were on the Surface now, the world at their fingertips, more food and recipes and cooking shows than they could shake a femur at just waiting to be discovered and utilized. 

So the fact that, when it was Spaghetti Night, and the awful, horrible, no good pot of what could only be termed as burnt soupy noodles was still being served… Fell had started to really wonder what was going on behind Papyrus’ beady little sockets. 

He’d attempted asking Paps himself, but hit a wall stronger than the Great Wall of China (and he knew how strong that particular wall was, they all took a trip and he threw a bone attack or two, just to test it). Then he’d tried Sans, but that sack of fluff just looked him in the eye, snorted, then walked away. Less than helpful, but Fell had worked with less.

In an effort to figure him out, Fell finally settled on a contest of sorts. The two of them would cook spaghetti, as best as possible, and they weren’t allowed to make it bad on purpose. Papyrus had had a glint in his eye when Fell told him the rules, one that made him think he was on the right track. 

It was a fierce battle, red sauce flying and wooden spoons wielded with precise accuracy, the heady smell of tomatoes and hamburger flowing through the house. Their brothers were waiting for the final product, both Fell and Papyrus meticulate in their plating and the amount of sauce added to the pile of pale noodles and browned meat. Each plate was put in front of Red and Sans, Sans looking on in amused boredom and Red staring at Papyrus’ plate in trepidation.

In the end the vote was unanimous. Papyrus’ plate won by a landslide, the winning skeleton walking off primly, a smug grin on his face as he counted his winnings from the bets everyone had placed on the contest. Fell watched him go, a big of smug satisfaction in his own soul once he’d tasted the winning plate.

The cad was an excellent actor, he’d give him that.


End file.
